Sleeping Habits
by Hasane-chan
Summary: Harry's children really like torturing him by way of waking him up at night.


Harry woke up to someone shaking his leg. His first immediate thought was to grab his wand for protection and to throw the person off of him.

He didn't register the figure to be wiry and wearing a loose shirt—a very loose shirt at that, so much so that the shirt was falling loosely over one of his shoulders—and frantically whispering "dad."

Harry chose neither fight nor flight, and he jumped awake in alarm, recognizing the voice to be Albus'.

"What? What is it?" Harry whispered, his eyes flicking around, moving around from place to place.

"Dad, dad! Chill! I'm not in trouble," Al informed him, grabbing his shoulder in attempt to comfort him.

Harry blinked. "Then?"

"I had a nightmare," Al stated, perched firmly on the edge of the bed.

Harry sat himself on the bed more firmly, in a way that didn't make his back ache. He loathed to say it, but he was getting old.

"So?" he said blearily. It sounded insensitive and he knew it.

"Can I sleep with you?" Al blinked at him owlishly, seemingly unaffected.

"You're literally sixteen, I'm fairly sure you can handle yourself."

"No, I can't. I'm here aren't I?"

"Don't get smart with me. Why should I let you sleep with us?"

"I'm a space heater?"

"It's in the middle of summer and it is the hottest it has ever been."

"I'm still a space heater?" Al said hopefully, his face lighting up.

Ginny shifted in her spot in the bed, and both boys—yes, Harry was a _boy_ —spun their heads towards her. Ginevra Potter née Weasley was a beast when she woke up in the morning, and even more so when she was woken up when she didn't want to.

To their horror, she did wake up, and with her hair like that, she looked like she was out for the blood of little children. Fitting.

"Harry, just let the kid sleep here," groaned Ginny, rubbing her eyes. She was tired enough to not notice that her husband made a sudden appearance in the middle of the night, which would have rung bells in her mind, but not when it was so addled with exhaustion.

"But..."

"It's been like, six years, since the kid's done this; you should be happy he's even asking."

"Exactly," Al added in helpfully.

Harry sighed. "Okay, fine."

Harry lifted up the blanket and Al crawled in excitedly, and made himself comfortable.

Watching him in his childish excitement, Harry kind of smiled, but it was hard to smile when you were woken up at three in the morning when you only went to bed at one. He had just came back from a _very_ long auror trip, and he was tired.

Harry lied back down on his side, and put his arm underneath his head. As soon he settled, Al put an arm around his waist.

Harry's eyes shot open. Now that was weird, having his sixteen year old son hold him like that. Apparently, Al was a cuddler.

It wasn't that bad, not really, and Harry opted not to say anything. It really wasn't worth risking waking Ginny up.

* * *

The next morning when Al woke up at eleven, both of his parents were still deep asleep, and somehow during the night, they both had maneuvered themselves so that they sandwiched him.

Al sighed inaudibly, and stared up at the ceiling. Finally, he carefully wiggled out of their embrace, as comfy as it was, and he fell forward onto the ground. He groaned quietly and made his way to his bathroom to get ready for the day. Brushing his teeth, taking a shower, shaving, the usual, really. He chose to wear dark wash skinny jeans, a loose t-shirt, and one of his brother's loose sweaters. Why it was in his closet, Al wasn't sure, but he wasn't complaining.

He went downstairs to the kitchen, where he was going to attempt to scrounge around for something to eat, but James had already beat him to it. Lily was sitting at the dining table, waiting patiently.

He made his way down, making his presence known. He said, "This is new; James is making breakfast for once in his life."

James spun. "Oh, hey. No, it isn't, there was that one time I made omelets, or something like that."

"You burned that, and while you were at it, you also managed to burn down the kitchen. That kitchen took weeks to fix, and the house smelled like smoke for even longer," Lily said, staring at James in a way that said 'don't challenge me, you know it's true.' "Speaking of, why are you even cooking?"

"Because mum and dad aren't up yet, and they're usually the ones that make breakfast," James said, rolling his eyes, levitating three plates of food to the dining table.

Lily started eating but Al looked curiously behind James, and asked, "Did you make any for mum and dad?"

"Um, yeah. Put a warming charm on them," James replied.

"So, how did last night go for you, Al?" Lily asked, unable to hold back a grin.

"All I have to say is: that's best dare you can come up with? Embarrassing? Maybe. Was I scared because I might have accidentally summoned a demon from hell through mum if I woke her up—which I did—? Oh, definitely. Do I regret it? No, actually," Al replied.

"And why exactly not?" James questioned with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Because that's the best sleep I've ever gotten in about a week. And I think the last time I fell asleep was when I sneezed last week and closed my eyes for about zero point two seconds," Al admitted. It was true. The only reason he had bothered to get up at a reasonable time was because he didn't feel shitty. Normally he would stay in bed until at least two o'clock in the afternoon.

"Right…" Lily said, sharing a look with James.

"It's true! The both of you should try it out if the both of you are so dubious," Al said, crossing his arms petulantly. "Actually, that'll be my next dare. For you try it out."

"And risk facing their wrath?" James said, rather reluctant.

"I'm still here aren't I?" Al retorted.

"That's because you're the baby of the family," Lily said right back.

Al thought about it for a second, and said, "True. You still have to do it. Where's your Gryffindor? Honestly."

James was just about ready to reply, but one look behind Al stopped in his tracks.

Harry was making his way down, looking rather tired, and still adorning his pajamas. The most he could be bothered to do was brush his teeth.

"Hello, good morning, nice to know you're all up," Harry murmured to them, voice quiet and soft with sleep.

"Hey, dad! What's crackalackin'?" Lily chirped. Her vocabulary became strange in the mornings, and since she was always up in the mornings, her vocabulary had found their way to her siblings. Don't trust morning people, because they can do the impossible and _wake up in the morning like a normal human being._

"My back," Harry replied, looking rather blankly at Lily.

"Oh, come on, you're not that old," James said to him, and then gestured to the kitchen. "There's food back there if you want it."

Harry's eyes shifted to the kitchen. "Did you make it?"

"…Yes."

"Can I trust it? Will it not poison me?"

"You have so little faith in me."

"With good reason."

"…Yes, you can eat it. Al and Lily did."

"Good enough for me. And really, I am that old."

"I think we would have known if you had retired from being a Head Auror, dad."

"I don't have to retire to be old."

Al watched this proceed and his eyes volleyed between the two of them. He shook his head fondly and smiled equally as fondly.

"Anyways, I think I'll go back up to my room to work on my portfolio," Al interjected, standing up and putting his plate in the sink.

On his way to his room, he whispered to James and Lily, " _Try it_."

They both rolled their eyes at him and nodded.

* * *

Harry woke up for the second night in a row, and it wasn't because of Al shaking his leg.

Well, that was because Al was upfront about his intentions and just asked to sleep with Harry and Ginny. Harry was never more grateful that he chose to tell them before going to bed instead of it's-way-to-damn-late-for-him-to-be-up o'clock.

Someone else was in his bed, and he was very near to having a heart attack. There's no specific age to have heart attacks but the ripe old age of forty-two seemed to be it considering this was the second time he came close to having one.

He took a good look at the face before anything; he didn't want to do anything he'd regret in the morning.

And it was… Well.

Harry certainly didn't expect it to be his eighteen year old son.

Of all the strangest and straight up unbelievable things that had happened in his life (and there was _plenty_ of that to go around), this had to be the strangest. Truthfully, who wouldn't think so? Children grew out of the "can I sleep with you" by the prime age of thirteen. Usually, at least.

Harry threw all common sense out of the window, and just woke James up. Pay back, you could say.

"…Huh?" James muttered blearily.

"What are you doing here?" Harry whispered harshly.

"Sleeping…?"

"I mean, no, what are you doing in my—our bed?"

"Still sleeping?"

"You have your own don't you? A very comfortable one at that."

"This one's comfier."

Harry rubbed his temples, trying to get rid of a growing migraine. "You really should have asked, James. Al at least had the sense."

"I didn't want to wake you up," James said with all the innocence of a seven year old that was clearly lying about not eating a cookie when the evidence of crumbs was all around their mouth. There was clearly a bigger issue behind this.

"One: you already woke me up by being here and two: there was a spider there wasn't there," Harry stated flatly.

James shifted his eyes. "…Yes."

"A big one."

It was probably sadistic, but Harry took a pleasure from watching his son's ego deflate a little. It was always a little too big anyways.

"...Yes."

Harry sighed. "James we can take care of this tomorrow. I'm too tired for this."

"You mean old."

"Shut up before I actually make you sleep on the floor."

"Point taken."

* * *

The next morning, when Al and James were sharing a sink brushing their teeth, Al had asked, "So?"

James grudgingly agreed it was good sleep, but had thought it was cramped.

"Of course, James, it's kind of a small bed," Al had knowingly replied. "Only so many can fit."

That night, Lily had done the same, and as Al had done, she woke up Harry.

Harry regretted not being the "scarier" parent of the two at this point. Maybe it would have stopped his children from waking him up at night.

The third time, Harry didn't question it, though he was grumpy. He merely just got up and expanded the bed. The bed was meant for three at the max, and four was cutting it. Five meant one of them had to sleep on the floor.

He invited Lily wordlessly and climbed back in.

"Thank you," Lily whispered quietly.

"You know," Harry mused, "you're the first of them to say thank you."

Lily snorted. "Typical of them. Are you okay with this? Al and James have been telling me that you haven't been getting enough sleep."

"It's not as bad as I've been making it to be, Lily," Harry said. "Don't worry about it. It's been a long time since all three of my kids has slept in the same bed as their parents. It's nice."

"Okay," Lily said. "Just wondering if you were fine."

* * *

The next day, Hermione had quietly flooed in to the Potter's house, for some work related thing or another, and Harry usually was the solution.

She quickly found that Harry wouldn't be answering her call anytime soon, and she noticed that the house was quiet. Too quiet. Usually, it was filled with clamor—dishes washing themselves, clothes being dried, Al singing to himself, that kind of thing. It wasn't that early in morning, they should be up by now.

Hermione quietly checked the Potter children's room, brandishing her wand. Finding that they weren't there, panic started to rise in her throat, and her heart beat faster. For the last resort, she checked Harry and Ginny's room, and promptly felt like she could laugh hysterically. The whole family was sleeping on the large bed, all of them sprawled haphazardly. The blanket was discarded on the floor.

Quietly, Hermione grabbed a camera and snapped a picture.

This one would _definitely_ be for keeps.


End file.
